The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-09-15

Comfort and luxury joined hands in
beautifying the quaint old homestead,
| for the prosperous young farmer had
| plenty of money, and Alice must have
pretty surroundings" he thought
tenderly, ''to make up for such COM
| monplace workaday sort of husband"
1t would not have done to say the
| concluding clause aloud, however, for
| he we'll knew that the little woman
would not have changed him for a
king; though be considered himself
sadly overrated in her mind, it was
very sweet to have it 50.
Barbara had fallen completely out
of the Groveland world. The aunt
with whom she had lived died sudden
ly soon after her marriage, and all
trace of the village beauty seemed to
have vanished.
If Mark ever thought of her it was to
wonder at the poignancy of the old
sufferings. His welded happiness had
been without cloud to mar its bright
| ness. Alice, as matron, had grown,
even more attractive than in her girl.
| hood. Care sat lightly on her white
forehead, and her soft pink cheeks
seemed made for dimples to play hide
and-seek in.
One evening Mark came home from
his weekly marketing expedition to the
neighboring town seemingly strange
ly thoughtful and troubled Alice
noticed it. and, after time, said:
Has anything gone wrong with you
to-day, Mark?"
He looked up in surprise.
why, little wifep What put that
into your headP"
Il don't know, I'm sure; unless it is
that you seem so quiet and unlike your
self"
Mark thought a moment, tn n he
said"
The truth is, Allie, am sorry and
panied, but not for myself. Did you
ever hear anyone speak of girl who
was once the beauty of the village
Barbara Wildman."
Alice had heard the whole story
of Marks infatuation and disappoint-
ment, but she made no sign, though
her heart gave great throb at hearing
the name from her husbands lips.
why, what of herp" she asked
quietly.
81 saw her to-day, and it made my
heart ache. She is the mere shadow of
what she. was, and she is alone and
friendleSs. Think of it! Barbara
Wildman looking for employment
Couldn't we find place for her, Allie?
She was notable worker in the old
times, and could help in the butter and
cheese making"
Alice would rather have died than
let Mark see the keen pain that his
words had caused her The thought
OF his first love domiciled in her
house! 1t was like dart aimed at
her heart. But she was too noble not
to strive against the unworthy feeling,
! and as soon as she could command her
voice, she answered:
"Certainly, Mark. If it would please,
you, bring her here. There is ALWAYS
room for an extra helper"
SO it was arranged, Barbara came.
A quiet reserved woman-still beauti-
ful-but not with the winsome bright
ness of old. Suffering and sorrow had
set its stamp upon her high broad fore
head, and the great bright eyes seemed
looking away into some unapproach-
able distance. Her lips were snut so
tightly together that the pretty pouting
curves which Mark remembered so
well had merged into straight red lines
| suggesting an idea of firmness which
| made her face too severe-looking to be
attractive.
She went about her duties with
pre-occupied air, as though her
thoughts were far away; but they were
faithfully performed. She made no
effort towards sociability.
Alice at first regarded her with
mixture of feeling; but she soon grew
to feel only a sorrowful pity for the
| lonely unhappy woman moving about
in her sombre black robes.
The Everson household was strange
ly happy one Sometimes Marks
quick temper made him unreasonable
| and osacting, and hasty words would
| escape his lips; but Alice had sweet
| loving ways of her own that he could
not resist. She would go up to him
and thread her fingers through his
curly brown hair aud put up her lips
| for kiss; so what with some would
have ended in quarrel, invariably
| made Mark feel that no one in the
| wide world had such a dear little wife
| as his own cross surly SELF" as he
would mentally stigmatise himself.
Barbara, being constantly with them
| was often an unthought-of-witness of
| these scenes, where a loving word
| turned away wrath.
Once she disappeared suddenly, and
! when in a few moments, Alice had
| need of her services, and went to her
| room to call her, she found her kneel-
! ing by the bedside, sobbing convul-
| sively.
Going to her, she put her tender
| arms about her, and said gently:
Tell me your trouble, Barbara.
Perhaps it win make your heart lighter
| to speak of it"
| The woman raised her head and
| looked wonderingly into the kind SYM
| pathetic face for q moment.
| At first she made no answer, but
| rocked herself to and fro, moaning to
| herself:
Il am unworthy, and God has pun
| ished me"
Alice caught the words, and said
| softly:
IF you have done wrong, and are
| sorry for it, He who chastiseth the chill
dren He loveth will also forgive"
"Can He bring the dead to life?" said
| Barbara, suddenly looking at Alice
with eyes that seemed to read her very
| soul.
! 1T is past the time of miracles; but
4 Ha h,-,p fko I'D